Sound Of Breathing
by spikeswench
Summary: Alec Does Max a favour. Or something. Just read the story, I suck at summaries. R&R *please* A/M friendship


Alec was woken by the sound of breathing. Someone else's breathing. He listened to the soft rush of air, regular and steady, and wondered who would be sitting by his bed in the middle of the night. There was really only one possibility.  
  
'Max?' he inquired softly.  
  
'Hey' she said, her voice low and smooth.  
  
'What's going on?' His voice was creaky and still had a touch of sleep in it.  
  
There was a pause. 'Nothing. Just couldn't sleep'  
  
He rolled over on his mattress to face her. 'You never sleep'  
  
She was sitting against the wall with her knees up and her arms wrapped around them. The moonlight seeped through his window and passed her by, pooling on the chair in the corner.  
  
'I know.'  
  
Alec didn't like being woken up. He liked it even less when he was woken up for no reason. He sat up and one side of his hair was flat from being slept on.  
  
'So why are you here?'  
  
She looked down and her hair slipped forward, covering her expression. He looked at the top of her head and felt a swell of impatience. He suppressed it and pushed himself into a more comfortable position, mirroring her against the opposite wall.  
  
'I need a favour'. This was new. It didn't matter, because he had the feeling he was about to be cast in the hideous soap opera that was Max's relationship with Logan.  
  
It was the middle of the night.  
  
He had been woken up and he HATED being woken up.  
  
He didn't like Logan and frankly, he was sick of being kicked around by Max.  
  
He decided he wasn't in the mood for doing anybody any favours.  
  
'What's the matter Maxie? Rollerboy not floating your boat? I'd like to help you out but really I'm never at my best without a full 6 hours of sleep. Come back in the morning and I'll see about doing you a favour you'll never forget.'  
  
Optimally, she would have walked out and come back in the morning, confessing that she could think of nothing more revolting than banging the gong with Captain Obvious. A lesser but still pleasing result involved Max having her standard hissy fit and storming away, leaving him to collapse back into his filthy mattress and return to dreamland.  
  
The least ideal reaction involved Max kicking his ass and making him help her anyway. This was the reaction he expected.  
  
At first, nothing happened. He wrinkled his forehead and waited for a response. Then he saw it. Her shoulders were shaking. She looked up at him and her eyes were brimming over, their brown depths glazed with tears. He watched with fascination as they overflowed. He took it all back, the least ideal reaction was crying. Manticore had not prepared him for this.  
  
He realised that she was leaving, that she was almost gone. Part of him wanted to let her go, to lie back down and forget about it, but before he knew it he was standing in her way, his hand on the door.  
  
'What favour?'  
  
She shook her head soundlessly, her hand groping blindly for the doorknob.  
  
'C'mon Max. What favour?'  
  
She looked up at him and he realised that they were standing so close he was breathing her air. He stepped back, out of her way.  
  
'Tell me.' He tried to make his voice firm and kind, pressing down the panic he was beginning to feel. 'What's wrong?'  
  
She reached out her hand, slowly, palm upwards. 'I didn't want to be alone'  
  
His genetically engineered, fine-tuned, sleep deprived brain struggled to make sense of her statement.  
  
He looked down at her outstretched hand. There was a syringe in it. This also failed to make sense. He stared at it, held in place by her curled- over fingertips.  
  
The syringe was full of a cloudy white liquid. He stared at it and suddenly it dawned on him. Snow. The syringe was full of Snow, a drug loved by the police department because it made prisoners into pliable zombies, a mild sedative that caused some discomfort but didn't do too much damage long term.  
  
It was called Snow for two reasons. The first was that it gave a user the impression that they had a river of ice running through their veins. The second was that it did actually lower the body temperature, an overdose was like going to sleep in a blizzard: you drifted off and never woke up.  
  
Snow didn't kill transgenics, but they had been using it lately to regulate Heat cycles. Alec focused and inhaled. Alongside Max's ordinary scent was the beginning of her Heat, so subtle he probably would have missed it if he wasn't concentrating. The Snow she was holding would suppress most of the heat symptoms and more importantly put her under for about 12 hours, getting her out of the danger zone.  
  
Alec focused on her hand again. He couldn't see the problem. No big deal right? Just a needle in the arm and a long nap. He was tempted to have a go himself.  
  
'I don't get it'  
  
She looked at him seriously, her brown eyes searching his face. 'I hate the cold'  
  
He understood, the facts he had were obvious. The '09 escape had been in the dead of winter, at night when they were barely clothed at all. Max had probably lived on the streets a lot of the time, which couldn't have been warm.  
  
There was the other rumour too, the one he had discounted because it seemed so farfetched, so incompatible with Max as he liked to think of her. In that rumour, they said she had escaped by staying under the ice for a long time, longer than should have been possible. He decided to ask.  
  
'How long were you under the ice in '09?'  
  
She looked confused. 'I don't know. It felt like a long time. I just waited until all the noise had stopped, then I punched back through'  
  
He wanted to ask why she had come to him for help, why she wasn't being cradled by OC or spoiled by Joshua or coveted by Logan from a distance. He didn't.  
  
He took the syringe from her and took her hand, leading her to the bed.  
  
'Sit down.'  
  
She did and he sat beside her, rolling her sleeve up to the shoulder. He tapped the syringe and she clenched her fist. She didn't wince or twitch when he slid the needle in, didn't show any reaction as the liquid flowed into her veins. When he withdrew the needle, she pressed her own fingertips over the wound briefly and let go, her transgenic healing taking over.  
  
He knelt and took her boots off. By the time he was done, she was shivering. Her teeth chattered as she followed his prompting and lay down on her side. He pulled the blanket over them both and tucked in behind her, tentatively wrapping an arm around her waist.  
  
'Speak to me' she muttered softly from between her chattering teeth. 'Tell me a story'  
  
'Once upon a time.' he began and told the story of a girl who had been injured by a mirror falling from the heavens, who only saw the horrible things in the world and had gone to live in the palace of the Snow Queen.  
  
By the time he reached the middle of the story she was sound asleep, shivering only now and then. He kept telling it anyway, his voice softening as he went on until sleep claimed him there was no sound in the room but breathing. His breathing, and hers. 


End file.
